Slices of Life
by Riana1
Summary: Speculations on life, love, and the ninja way. A series of drabbles based on Naruto.
1. in wine there is truth

InoNaru 'cause blondes do have more fun.

In wine there is truth

It happened one hot summer evening after a particularly difficult but successful mission out of Water Country, and they were drunk off glory, homecoming, and a bit too much sake. Somehow they stumbled into her apartment for some more sake that she was **sure** she had left over from her chuunin graduation party four months ago but for the life of her could not remember **where** she stashed it, and he leaned over to whisper some stupid joke involving a monk, a priest, and a rabbi walking into a bar, though he didn't know exactly **what **a rabbi was, when she turned her head towards him. And kissed him. It was actually more of a case of smashed lips, but he jerked away, tomato faced, babbling that he was sorry that he didn't mean it that she was his teammate and he respected her skill, her strength, her smarts, and even though she was gorgeous and fun and really handy with an kunai that he would never ever do anything to hurt her for all the ramen in the world.

She kissed him again. Whisper soft, but insistent until he went still against her; then oh so slowly deepening the kiss before he threaded his hands through her hair and pulled her against him. She never did figure out how they manage to get from her kitchen and into her bed, though she foggily recalled a run-in with her coffee table and a pair of pumps she left scattered on her bedroom floor.

He was warm, and curled around her like an overgrown house cat with his arm wrapped tightly around her waist and his legs tangled up with hers. Even in sleep, he never lets go, she thought, before she slipped back into a dreamless slumber. She awoke to hazy afternoon light and his restless groans courtesy of an aching head and three celebration sake bottles.

"Ahhhrggh... five more minutes, Sensei..."

"You said that ten minutes ago, Naruto."

"Fine..fine..Sen– **_Ino_**!?"

"Good morning – though afternoon is more like it."

"Ino...ah shit, I mean, I'm **sorry**. I had too much – I know it's no ex– I didn't **mean** for it to go so – not that it was bad, it was wonderful, you are wonderful but– **_goddam_** – This is all my fault. I hurt you and I'm so sorry and I know that it is unforgiv–."

"I am going to get some aspirin, some coffee, and breakfast or lunch actually. Then we can talk, okay?"

"......."

"Naruto."

"......."

"Naruto."

"......"

"**Naruto**."

"...Okay, that sounds good."

Ino smiled and rolled out of bed, snagging his shirt from the floor and strolling into the kitchen, leaving a stunned and throughly kissed Naruto in bed. She did not believe in regrets – not with Sasuke, not with Shikamaru, and not with him. Because life was too short for regrets and a ninja's life could even shorter so you had to take what life offered you and grab it, and as she turned the coffee make on, she thought she never was good at letting what she wanted get away without a fight. Or about letting go either.

She smiled as she sipped her freshly brewed coffee and turned to see Naruto stumble blurry-eyed and grinning out of the doorway. For a student of the great sannin, Naruto was a real lightweight, Ino thought, only three bottles before all those restrictions and worries and only friends junk went out the window.

I like loud blondes. I like loud blondes together. Ino/Naruto is complete fun to read and to write. I hope you enjoy.


	2. snowfall

An origins drabble. Haku centeric.

Snowfall

They were the children of snow, his mother said, in the few times he ever remembered her speaking about her family. He looked up at her, nestled in her lap, and asked 'how mama how?'

She would stare off into the dark, the quiet that came with the first snowfall, then speak of a man who was lost, a woman who was winter's death, an unlikely love, a promise, a betrayal, and a banishment. A familiar story in the snow soaked mountains of their home, but from his mother's lips a tragedy taken too close and she would always squeeze him tight afterwards, burying her face in his hair, an unspoken reassurance.

Too late, too tardy did he realize the purpose of his mother's old stories. An admonition, a presage, a warning: he did not hear and did not heed and fulfilled the tale. A promise, a betrayal and a banishment, and he is alone.


End file.
